


While I try to forget I used to be something great

by evieoh



Series: All That I Want [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dark fic, F/M, Love, Possession, Post 3x10, love transcends death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 01:43:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14094291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evieoh/pseuds/evieoh
Summary: The emotions feel so foreign, he has tasted the edge of them briefly in his long lifetime, through many hosts, but never like this.Never this agony that cries for more.This need for destruction that aches in his bones. She is the sun and he wants to burn in her flames. This is what sends men to war, this is what they die for.And this is the piece that has been missing. She is the spark that lights the void within him.[Skyeward / Hive/Skye(sort of)Post 3.10. Sure to be AU]





	While I try to forget I used to be something great

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, my previous account was hacked and all my fics deleted, so I am reuploading them all now. This fic was originally posted in December 2015.
> 
> The hugest of thank-you's to serenity-sea for holding my hand and walking me through this story step by step. This fic would not exist without her prodding and prompting.  
> And also stargazerdaisy for saving me with synonyms and sentence structuring in my hour of need.

The world feels harsher than he recalls.

Too much noise and too many people. It is a shock to the system after so long in solitude. He finds his followers though, learns the way of these people again. His current host is useful, physically strong and capable. His familiarity with these groups that both seem to want to control or destroy him, SHIELD and Hydra, is beneficial, as is his expertise with weaponry and languages, the history of his people, violence. He could not have chosen a better host to acclimatize him to this new world.

But there is something missing, something hollow. He isn't sure if it is the remnants of his host's mind, or the feeling of lacking a true place in the world as it is now. He can't place a name to these feelings exactly, somewhere between longing and emptiness.

 

And then he sees her.

 

The woman with the power to move the earth, filled with passion and fury and love. The endless capacity for both violence and compassion that twists uncomfortably in her soul.

 

Her power draws him like a beacon, but there is something else there too. There are others with her, standing ready to fight alongside her, but they are inconsequential - mere peons compared to her. She is a Queen. Bathed in light and posture regal - the only thing he has seen in his time here truly worthy of his appreciation. She pulls at his mind ( _at his host's mind_ ) and he is no longer sure whether it is his interest or the longing of his host, and it becomes unclear where one ends and the other begins.

 

He sees her falter when she faces him. Horror swiftly follows shock, but there is a brief flare of pure joy tinged with longing in between.

There is a flicker of something at the edge of his memory when he first sees her. A ghost of a voice in the recesses of his mind (" _you can't choose to feel_ ") and a feeling of being lost in the dark until she appeared. It throws him off-balance, this sudden sensation of seeing everything twice. Her name is a whisper on the tip of his tongue.  _Skye_.

 

The host had seemed so passive at first; knowledgeable and strong, the perfect guide to this new world that has sprung up in his absence, but yielding in his own desires and easy to push down. Compliant even, up until she appeared. Then he had sprung forward, warring for control of the body and mind he had lost. It feels like both a constant struggle for balance between the two, until --  _perfect clarity_  -- as their sight lands on  _her_  once more. Their objectives align; the need for her overtaking every conscious thought and focus as they finally reach a unified desire.

 

They meet again, and this time she seems to be better prepared to face him and the body he wears. Only a fleeting shadow of sorrow crosses her face before she stretches her hands out and pushes against him. He can feel her strength, though the ripples of her power roll past him harmlessly. She looks lost for a moment, her face falling briefly in confusion before she quickly approaches again; her hands swift as she launches herself at him, but her blows landing mostly ineffectually against him. He lets her tire herself before he makes a move, pulling her firmly back against his borrowed body he catches the sharp inhalation of breath as her back presses against his chest. His breath brushes against her cheek and he can feel the way her emotions war within her, disgust and anger mixed with grief and a wistful yearning.

  
He becomes aware of the soft warmth of her skin against his touch, the scent of her as he holds her so close. His desire spikes in answer, the reaction taking him by surprise once again.

One arm banded across her chest, his hand resting against the side of her head. It would be so easy to kill her like this. Her fragile mostly human body, so many ways to be destroyed. But the thought of it makes something in him recoil. The idea of the world without her makes him feel like the oxygen is being dragged from his lungs and he shoves her away from him as he quickly retreats from the scene.

 

He is both horrified and fascinated by his response to her. He feels drawn to her, her fierceness and strength, the desire sharp and sudden as it rushes through him. But it is more than that. The emotions feel so foreign, he has tasted the edge of them briefly in his long lifetime, through many hosts, but  _never_  like this.

 

Never this agony that cries for more.

 

This need for destruction that aches in his bones. She is the sun and he wants to burn in her flames. This is what sends men to war, this is what they die for.

 

And this is the piece that has been missing. She is the spark that lights the void within him.

 

He explores the world, captivated by all that has changed during his banishment, learns the ways of the people who populate it now. Of the wars and famine and excess. Such a fickle people in so many ways but their capacity to love, to endure, fascinates him greatly.

 

She is always on his mind.

 

Her name on the tip of his tongue, the first thought upon waking. He is consumed by her, unable to escape her wherever he goes. She knows by now that she cannot defeat him, but she cannot seem to leave it be either. She seems so horrified by him ( _by who the host was or who he is now?_ ) yet drawn to him all the same. He catches the longing in her eyes even as she tries to smother it, to present herself as composed and dispassionate in the presence of Death; the shock and pain and yearning that call to him. He wants to caress her face, to watch those eyes flutter as she sinks into his embrace and gives herself over to him ( _how much of this is his mind and how much is what remains of the host?_ )

They become tangled in a routine that is almost an elegant dance, her powers are useless against him but she comes at him anyway, again and again. He finds himself falling deeper in his fascination with her, her wit and bravery charming him through each of their encounters. She cannot seem to bring herself to back down from a fight even when she knows she cannot win, and even as he chides her for her childish impulses he admires the strength within her. Her determination to face him. To find a way to destroy him. It only strengthens his desire to make her his own.

Her quips and sharp retorts bring forth a humor long forgotten, and a tender feeling he has never known - once again he feels that strange sensation of seeing her through two sets of eyes.

 _He remembers her laughter ("_ G4 _"), the pure joy in her face cutting through him and tearing open vaults he'd bricked closed so many years ago. The warmth that poured forth from some long forgotten well inside him, spreading through his veins and skipping across his skin. He can't stop the sharp burst of laughter that escapes him, or the smile that spreads across his face, not the composed mask he usually presents to the world but a true smile; uncontrolled, too wide and awkward and unsure._

_He can feel himself slipping. She is a weakness. She is a distraction from the mission, and nothing can distract him from the mission._

_But this unfamiliar awareness he has for her, these feelings she has awoken within him, is the realest thing he has ever known._

 

This time when they meet they are alone. Just the two ( ~~three~~ ) of them in an abandoned warehouse. He is close enough to feel the warmth from her skin, to count each dark feathery lash where they rest against her skin as she closes her eyes against him.

 

There is a void in her too, he can see it now.

 

The lost girl searching for home, for something all her own. In her face he can number the losses that have left her hollow and he is struck by the sudden and completely alien urge to comfort her. He reaches a hand out and brushes fingertips against her cheek, inexplicably stung when she recoils ( _though he can feel the way the host expected the reaction_ ). He steps closer, crowding her now, half expecting her to attempt to use her powers against him once again. She simply raises her chin, squaring her shoulders defiantly as she faces him down (but still can't meet his eyes). He can see the slightest quiver in her expression, just a fleeting moment of regret perhaps, before she locks it down again. He feels a burst of pride that he is fairly certain did not come from himself.

 

_His rookie who used to hold the gun and say "bang", who wouldn't shoot someone to save her own life; standing before him and filled with such raw power and poise. She inhabits her own skin in a way he could never manage, in a way that fills him with envy mixed with pride._

 

 _Now_  she raises her eyes to meet his and suddenly he understands why she refused before. Glassy with unshed tears, the longing in them steals his breath. Her entire soul is bared to him and he feels himself falling in -

He feels his features soften, and the voice that comes forth is not his own, " _Skye_." He murmurs gently, his voice desperate and breathless, like he has come from so far just to say her name and look upon her face one last time. He sees the way she startles at the sound, the question in her eyes as she searches his face for something he doesn't understand.

"Grant?" She questions, her voice barely a whisper, as though if she speaks too loudly then everything she so desperately wants will disintegrate beneath her touch.

Her hand reaching out to him, disbelief and confusion clear in her features, as the yearning and hope overpower any better sense she might have. The soft tenderness of her fingertips as they brush across his cheekbones, a barely there touch that  _burns_ , leaves a trail of sparks spreading across his skin in it's wake.

He cannot stop himself from leaning into her touch, seeking her comfort, feeling like a pet who has finally found a master. The urge he has to submit to her shocks him, after ruling for so long, what is it about this small Inhuman that shakes him to his core? Turns every thought in his mind away until his only desire is  _her_. Her smile, her laughter, her  _approval_.

He cannot think of anything beyond her, like his life began that day they first met in battle and will end the last time she closes her eyes. He wants nothing more in this moment than her permission to spend his life serving by her side, laying at her feet, whatever she will allow.

And finally he can see her true desire. The thing she longs for even as she despises the weakness, even as she knows the impossibility. And again the borrowed memories threaten to overwhelm him -

\---  _Skye. Running to him. Grasping his vest and looking at him like he is the safest place he knows._  ---

\---  _Longing to reach back into her past and make it better for her, the desire stronger than anything he has ever let himself feel about his own childhood._  ---

\---  _Playing board games, team-bonding nights. Training her, correcting her stance. His too rough hands against her delicate skin. Slipping so deep into his cover that he can almost believe it himself, falling so hard into her. He can see that there is no good way for it to end, but he wants this. Bad._  ---

\---  _Shock and pain and terror and dread. She is bleeding out and he is useless. This is not something he can fight, not something he can beat. His hands are not enough to hold her broken body closed, and no matter how hard he tries he can't will her blood to stop spilling from her wounds. He pictures Quinn's smug face and his trigger finger twitches. He thinks of Garrett... and he can't. He can't follow that thread to it's conclusion or everything will unravel._  ---

\---  _Her smile bright enough to light up the darkened room, his lips still carrying the faint taste of her. He might die out there, there is every chance he will, but suddenly he's ok with that. To die with the feel of her lips on his fresh in his mind, with her believing in the good man he isn't, can he really hope for anything better at this point?_  ---

\---  _His hands cupping her cheeks, begging her to understand. Her flinching away from him, he is losing her, them, everything that might have been, just as everything finally felt within his grasp. He could save John. Save her. Keep her. She is the only thing he has ever wanted to be his, why can't she see that? Why can't that be enough?_  ---

\---  _Long months in the dark. So much time to dwell in his own mind (so much time to dwell on her. On all of the ways they could have loved.) And then she is there. She brings air back in to his lungs. She brings back light, brings back his sight. (All he wants to **see**  is her)._ ---

\---  _Gasping for breath as fire burns through his side. Shock and disbelief as she steps over him, bleeding on the floor beneath her._  ---

\---  _Pride mixed with shock as he sees what she has become now, as he witnesses the power she can wield. He has tried so hard to let go, to accept and move on. But in that moment he knows there is no escaping her. She is still the first time he wanted something all his own, and that desire is a flame that burns eternal._  ---

\---  _His last moments as he feels the pressure growing on his chest, feels the bones begin to crack beneath the pressure. He is looking up at the sky, knowing the inevitability of this moment even as he curses this damned planet and everything that ever happened that has brought him here. But not her. Not his Skye. He holds her face in his mind, that last moment when she still believed in the good inside him, her eyes so earnest and her hand soft against his cheek. He wants to soak in that moment forever, if he gets to choose his last thought before he dies then he wants this; to be in that room with her forever. To forget the world outside, to forget John, forget the team, forget Koenig's blood on his hands, forget everything but **her**_  ---

\- Reeling from the deluge of memories and second-hand heartache, he jerks away from her as he realizes how this has to end.

 

She loves the host. She could never bring herself to love him.

 

But he can be Grant. He can give her that desire that she could never bring herself to even name.

 

He sinks down, lets the host surge to foreground.

 

Watches as her eyes widen, disbelief warring with hope in her features as she struggles to make sense of what is going on.

 

The host, weakened and in shock, stumbles and falls to his knees and in only moments she is there. Tears in her eyes as she holds him up, so many frantic questions bursting out that he doesn't have a chance to answer and her hands touching his face, gentle and unsure.

 

Everything inside him feels as though it is being torn apart as their memories merge and clash. His mind twist and writhes as they assimilate, he can feel himself disappearing into the maelstrom of pain and fear.

 _He remembers standing by the well, watching his little brother beg for his help and knowing his weakness is to blame for this_  -  _He remembers his transformation, the day they discovered the destruction his abilities wrought, the panic and the fear he felt then, but also the curiosity, the potential that exists in this._  -  _Watching the flames grow higher and feeling nothing at all. He expected to feel satisfaction but all there is is emptiness inside him._  -  _The horror and the wonder that accompanied his first experience of possessing a host, the uncomfortable and unfamiliar tug of their emotions, that feeling of wearing skin that is too tight._  -  _Being freezing cold and alone in the woods. Swearing he will never be made weak again._  -  _Being banished to that planet. Alone. Betrayed by those who were supposed to serve him. He spends a millenia planning his revenge._  -  _And then Skye._  -  _And then Skye._

 

A moment of panic at this rash decision ( _what is mere love compared to an eternity of rule?_ ) - and then unspeakable calm.

 

_And then she is there._

 

Her touch anchors him to the earth, more at home in this body now than any version of himself has felt. And finally, there is a peace greater than anything he has ever known. These two minds have blended together in a way that feels both stronger and calmer than either version that existed before. There is no more shame, no more fear of weakness, no more hunger for power and control. Just a simple recognition of his own strength, of his own desires. A certainty he has never felt before of his place in this world. Of this new, stronger being that will emerge from the wreckage of two broken souls, a phoenix reborn and ready to take flight.

 

The confusion fades away, the conflicting memories and emotions settling as his mind adjusts. He can feel his flesh reviving, sensitivity to touch returning, warmth flooding across his body as the blood pumps through his veins once again.

 

"Grant," She says again, insistent now, her hands cradling his face, her eyes searching his.

Something she sees there seems to answer her unspoken question and he can see tears well in her gaze, her hands shaking against his skin. He brings his own hands up to cover hers, hold them steady. Rests his forehead against hers, feeling her breath mingle with his own as she begins to sob. He can feel his own eyes begin to sting as the shock of all that has taken place begins to sink in. As the feeling of her in his arms again begins to sink in.

 

Smiling through her tears, relief mixed with wonder as she murmurs, "You're here."

 

"I'm here."


End file.
